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Copyright 1907 

BY 

BYRD MASON 
All rig his reserved 



Aa anmp altgljt «rngttttt0n 

(§f t\}i pipaaurp affnrlipti mg boga 

Ig "Im Uabbtt." 



A iag ®00 Slate. 

I met a friend not long ago, 

From a far distant State, 
;Who had come to visit Virginia 

With expectations great. 

For she had heard so mnch of us, 

In such romantic guise, 
She thought the day had come at last 

For dreams to realize. 

She thought to find those same grand homes. 

With gates spread open wide. 
And all the adjuncts of the past 

Aristocratic pride. 

She thought to find a welcome free, 

Guests coming by the score, 
With compliments and toasts and jests, 

With dance and feasts galore. 

Centaurs and cavaliers the men, 

Eoses-in-bloom the maids, ^ 
Majestic age with silvery hair, 

And friends of every grade. 



2 The Kabbit Foot 

The hospitality of those fine 

Housekeepers of the past, 
She should have known that fairy tale 

Was but too bright to last 

She expected to drive with coach and six, 
Outriders fore and aft, 

But when she spoke of doing that same- 
Why, all of us just laughed. 

Those ancestral homes in ruins lie, 

Of friends so true and tried. 
Many are dead, the rest of them 

Are scattered far and wide. 

The belles and beauties of long ago 
Have doffed their gracious airs, 

Another sort usurps the place 
They once considered theirs. 

Only traditions of our past, 

Survive just now and then, 
While even those are dying out, 

And disbelieved of men. 

Those lowly friends whose merriment 

Cheered night into the day, 
'No longer friends, but secret foes. 

Somewhat to our dismay. 



The Rabbit Foot 

The little black who saved the steps, 

Obedient as a child, 
Has grown into the Caliban 

Of Shakespeare's Tempest Isle. 

Our hearts are just as warm perhaps, 

But buffets of stern fate 
Have changed our lives — I greatly fear 

She came a day too late. 



But ere these times are quite forgot, 

I'll try by skill of mine, 
To draw them as they used to be 

In simple true outline. 



The Eabbit Foot 



Eift labbit JTont. 

"I dun brung you er rabbit-foot, Miss Grace, 
An' I hopes 'twill bring you luck, 

Ef you ain't too high-fer-lut-in 
Tev takes intrust in secb truck. 

"I cotcbed bim myself er week ergo, 

At dat cbuch-yard do' by night, 
An' cut off his leff bine foot right straight, 

Arfter er tuzzlin' fight." 

"What sort of luck should I expect? 

For just what you might call 
Good luck, or bad, I mightn't think 

Any sort of a luck at all. 

"Dat's de trufe, yas'm, it sartinly so, 

I moughtn't agree wid you; 
Kase my bess of luck would princ'ply be 

Jess nuthin' er tall to do. 

"Cepp eatin' uv watermilyims — 

I had dun fergot dat fac — 
Thanky, Miss Grace ! (dat leff bine foot 

Dun started 'pon hits track !") 



The Rabbit Foot 



mtU iCurg. 

They were all Episcopalians, 

These darkeys at the Hall, 
And congregated at the church 

To christen children small. 

The preacher stood arrayed in white, 

In stiff and awesome state. 
To pour the holy chrism o'er 

Each little woolly pate. 

"IsTame this child!" Kate catches breath, 

She lisps: "Justh Luthy, thir," 
He stopt in fear and trembling, 

Eor he thought it "Lucifer." 

"I daren't baptize a Christian child 
By such a name as that — " 
And looked so fiercely at her. 
That Kate, fluttering like a bat, 

Whispered "Pleathe, thir, choothe yourthelf, 
Tho' ther won't no harm be dun — " 

"Well," said he, "what do you think 
Of the name of — Washington?" 



6 The Rabbit Foot 

Then took the silence for consent, 

Announced with solemn air, 
^'This child is named George Washington — ^^ 

And wondered at her stare. 

The mother melted into tears, 

And lifted up a wail 
That smote the truth into his ears, 

And made the preacher quail. 

"Dar now ! Dar now ! What I'm gwine do 

Wid dith poor leetle one, 
De onlieth gal I got on yerth 

Dun named George Wathington!" 



The Rabbit Foot 



Aunt Olm&g B Pnrtratt 

Miss say she warnt my pictiir tiik, 
Jess like I'm iiwery day — 

I don want no pictur tuk of mine 
Ef I got ter look dat way. 

Er pritty sight me — ole checked-coto 
An' hyar tied np wid strings, 

An' jess all bundled up enyhow, 
Who uvver heerd sech things ! 

Miss dunno what she talkin' 'bout, 
Me — in my slip-shod shoe, 

Wid nary bit uv bunnit on — 
An' in er pictur, too ! 

I don't warnt folks ter 'member me 
'Cepp drust up in my bess ; 

I don't cornsider it respects er tall 
All floured up and messed. 

I warnts my new manchiller on, 

An' fan belt in my ban' ; 
An' settin' down like sho-'nuff f okes, 

De quality ov de Ian'. 



The Rabbit Foot 

I hain't gwine ter hab no chillen ov mine 
. Er 'spisin' ov my looks, 
Dat likeness got ter do me proud 
Like de vittles what I cooks. 

Miss ain't got nun ov hern dat way, 

Hern's drust in velvits fine, 
An' lessen I wars my Sund'y-bess, 

She don' git nun ov mine. 

Miss don' suspicion how I feels, 

But 'ceppin' we ergree 
'Bout dem Sund'y-go-ter-meetin' clo& 

'No sar ! JSTo mam ! No me ! 



The Eabbit Foot 



Aunt QltnJug'B l^mnh Olak?* 

^^That cake was most delicious, 
Can't jovL tell me how it's made ?" 

"Why, certingly, Miss," most graciously 
The courteous accents said. 

"In cose, you takes plenty flour ernuff, 

De size de cake you warnt. 
An' den de aigs — jess ez you please — 

Sum's little, an' sum aren't. 

You graduates de shuger nex, 

Wid er lump ov butter, too; 
You beats de aigs — de yokes and whites — 

Den beats de butter thru. 

How big er lump ov butter, say ? 

Jess like I says it twuz, 
I thought enybody knowed how big 

Er lump ov butter wus. 

An' den you beats — an' beats — an' beats, 
Twell de dough gits reely warm, 

An' you gits warm er beatin' it; 
You carn't do it eny harm, 



10 The Kabbit Foot 

Kase de mo' you beats de better 'tis, 

Fer er light-minded one ; 
Well, den you bakes an' bakes dat dough, 

Twell it rises like de sun. 

Dat's all de way — de way I duz, 
Kase dat's de way ter bake. 

An' you ain't nuvver set your toof 
In eny better cake. 

Huccum you don't understan' dat talk ? 

Why, dat one you jess eat 
Was made dat way, an' you jess say 

Dat cake, it carn't be beat." 

"But I always thought a real pound-cake 
Took just a pound around — " 

"Laws! no chile! it's dat beatin' 
What makes 'um call it pound.'' 



The Kabbit Foot 11 



''OIl|tlir^n S>l|0uliii b^ Btm nnh '^ct 



Mammy appears with bonnet tied, 

And basket on her arm, 
A look of mighty importance 

On her usual visage calm — 
For important looking persons 

Mammy bears the palm. 

A chorus of little voices : 

^^0 ! Mammy ! Let me go ! 
I won't be any trouble — I'll do 

Whatever you tell me to — " 
*'l carn't let you go dis mornin', 

Dough I is sorry, sho'. 

"But I mought bring you sumthin' back, 
Ef you 'have like chillen should; 

Dough I carn't tell you what it is, 
It's sumthin' mighty good, 

But er powerful secret, hunny, 
Mammy'd tell you ef she could." 

'^Why, where are you going, Mammy ?" 
Asks the boldest of the throng, 



12 The Rabbit Foot 

Re-echoed by the rest of us, 

Although we know it's wrong; 
But it's such a favor for Mammy 

To take one of us along. 

Then all of us stand quite abashed, 
For we know what Mammy thinks. 

When she straightens up and sets her mouth 
As solemn as the Sphynx, 

And wait in awestruck silence, 
And even the boldest blinks. 

Mammy can't ^^ntolerate'^ questions, 
And Mammy's black eyes shine. 

She turns with a reproving look 
And finished sarcasm fine: 

"I'm gwine whar I'm gwine, dat's whar — 
Now you know whar I'm er gwine." 



The Kabbit Foot 18 



Always on the Sabbath-day 
Somebody tries to preach or pray, 
When the little darkeys come to say 

Their share of Catechism lore, 

A task by which they set much store, 

Now set aside forevermore. 

Little Magnolia comes with the rest, 

In linsey-wolsey gaily drest, 

And answers bravely with the best. 

Little Magnolia's fat and brown, 
While all alert from toe to crown, 
Intimidated by a frown. 

Little Magnolia always sings 

Of golden streets with harps and strings, 

And Jesus' love and angel wings. 

Of the doctrine of eternal fires 
She somewhat anxiously inquires. 
It evidently awe inspires. 



14 The Kabbit Foot 

She listens with a mild surprise, 
About that home beyond the skies ; 
Then little Magnolia '^bats'' her eyes, 

And solemnly shakes her kinky headi 
"I dunno what I do ef I be ded, 
I jess es lief stay here instead — " 

A tear-drop twinkles like a star: 
"I suttinly don' want ter go nowhar, 
Less I know Mammy gwine be thar/' 



The Rabbit Foot 15 



Ef I wus ter tell all dat I knows, 
'Twonld raise er rumpuss sho' ; 

I jess now passed erlong de hall 
An' cum by dat side do'. 

You knows dey keeps de brandy on 

Dat sidebode in de hall ; 
Handy ter ax fokes fer ter drink 

When cump'ny cum ter call. 

An' dar wus Uncle Bumpass, 

Es jess es bold es brass, 
Er drinkin' frum de 'canter 

'Thout even techin' er glass. 

Dat Bumpass sho' is spiled ter deff, 

An' always wus er limb; 
I don' speck he kno' ef dat dar house 

B'long ter Miss, er him. 

He seed me, an' jess humped his back, 

An' gin er leetle snigger ; 
"Dis her's Miss' licker you see gwine 

Inter yer Mistis' nigger." 



16 The Rabbit Eoot 

An' Miss — slie wond'rin' uvvery daj, 
Why dat licker don' hole out; 

I don' see what she wunderin' at, 
Ef she jess look erbout. 

Ef I warnt feared uv Bumpass, 
I'd er tole her long ergo ; 

But jess you wait — one day — ole Miss 
Will cum by dat side do'." 



The Eabbit Foot 17 



Wh luff. 

Ole Rnf e was caught red-handed ; 

'No excuse came to his brain, 
"Kase tain't no use to splainifj, 

When things they won't stay splain. 

Dat chicken runned right crost my parth, 

Jess fryin'-size an' fat; 
My hans jess reached out uv demselves 

An' cotched him — simperly dat. 

I got ter take what cums ter me, 

Whatsumever de law erlow, 
Kase I carn't ercount fer dat dar fowl — 

I no-count nigger, enyhow." 



18 The Eabbit Foot 



"I always likes ov Sundy morns 

Ter knock off at my ease, 
An' set out in de porch an' watch 

De birds out in dem trees — 
An' — Miss Kitty, I wish you'd ax yer Pa, 

Ter len' me de paper, please." 

'^Which one ?" "Jess eny one he's got, 

It's all de same ter me, 
I carn't read nare one, but I likes 

Ter set whar f okes kin see ; 
An' I 'joys myseff er thinkin' how 

I looks like ole Mars Lee." 

He's a very respectable old man, 
Of warm and chocolate brown, 

All of his colored friends stop and speak, 
On their errands through the town; 

And he enjoys his papers much 
As he holds them upside down. 



The Rabbit Foot 19 



''Miss gin Penny er long brown cloak 
Dat recht plum ter her knees, 

An' jess es good es new, 'cept whar 
Miss drapt er streak ov grease. 

Long down on de frontispeace. 
An' in cose she ciildn't war. 

So 'twas luck fer Penny — an' er hat 
Wid fethers here an' thar. 

When Sundy cum she hustled um on, 
An' traipsed erlong ter church, 

Her mouf er grin frum year ter year, 
Her face one gret big smirch. 

She slipt out 'fore de ress ov us, 
Dough she had work ter do ; 

An' got dar 'fore de preacher did — 
And percht in de middle pew. 

I had ter stay at home dat day 
To do what she dun leff; 

I owed her er grudge an' she got it, 
Er swingin' frum de heff. 



20 The Eabbit Foot 

I wislit you'd seen her fling her lied 
Wid dem fethers fljin' 'roun', 

She nnvver lookt lower dan de skies, 
An' hardly teched de groun'. 

Den she cum twistin' in de house, 
So proud she bar cud speak. 

Like dat wus de fus cloak uvver made, 
Wid dat long greasy streak. 

She marched up ter de lookin'-glass 
Wid her hed tost in de ar ;" 

"I wisht you'd bin erlong wid me 
An' seed dem darkies star ! 

Dey lookt, an' lookt, an' I felt fine — '^ 
Den I larft twell I wus hurt, 

**I ain't wund'rin' at dat starin', nun— 
Whar you leff yer bottom skirt ?" 



The Eabbit Foot 21 



"You fust take sum termottoses '^ 



"How many?" "Jess jou choose, 
About es many as you think 
You need to want ter use. 

An' slice an' stew um er long time, 
Hit's pintedly werk, not fun ; 

Mine, stew um slow, as long's you think 
Hit'll take ter be well done. 

An' den you take some inguns, 

Keep stewin' all erlong; 
But don't put too many inguns in. 

Do ketchup be too strong. 

Den er pinch uv cloves — an' spices, 
Not nuff ter spile de looks, 

An' don't you put um in too soon. 
Day darkens whiles dey cooks. 

An' sum likes corimander seed. 

But I don' holes by dat, 
isTer po' man's flaver, cinnermun. 

Hit makes hit tase too flat. 



22 The Rabbit Poot 

]^ot mucli uv all, and yit erniiff ; 

I f ergot dem peppers, too; 
You better put too much uv thum, 

Den resk erbout too few." 

"Howmucb? How many?" "I carn't tell, 

You puts in, an' dispense 
Jess by yer sense ov feel ins — 

Ain't you got natehul sense ?" 

"By those rules — you call them rules ?"> 

"In cose — an' sho' I do — " 
"I think your ^ketch-up' recipe 

Is certainly ^catch-up' too." 

Mammy is mightly 'fended now; 

"Well, ef you knows de bess, 
Whyn't you make hit yer own seff, 

An' leab me ter my ress." 



The Kabbit Foot 23 



"What you warnt here, little Miss V 
"Why, I've come to learn to cook ;" 

"Now you march straight back ter that thar 
house, 
An' read yer pictur-book, 

An' tend ter white foke's business, 

Whar white fokes understans; 
You got no business 'round dis fire 

Er spilin' dem white hands. 

Yer granma'd rise up in her grabe 

To see are chile of hern 
Er meddlin' wid er butcher-knife, 

Or projickin' wid er churn. 

An' I jess mixin' uv dis dough, 

Two cakes ter make an' bake, 
An' here you cum wid sum yer fun; 

Don' talk, fer pity's sake, 

Kase I got no time ter wase jess now, 

An' de kitchen ain' no place 
Fer dem dar shoes an' ruffled dress, 

Ner fer quality chillen's face. 



24 The Eabbit Foot 

You got plenty ov fokes ter cook fer you 

De ress of your born days ;'' 
^^But why can't I learn to cook myself?'* 

"Kase/' argues Mammy, ^'Kase." 

So then fate's fiat has gone forth, 

The "ukase" of our Czar, 
Like axioms of self-evident truths, 

For Mammy's "kase" is law. 

"Miss" returns to her pleasant tasking 
And resumes her picture-book; 

'Now many a time she wrings her hands 
That she didn't learn to cook. 



The Kabbit Foot 25 



Mort was always good-natured and ready to 
laugh, 

In fact, he was generally grinning, 
With his eyes and his teeth in boldest relief, 

But droning's the worst of his sinning. 

He can play a good tune and dance to its time, 
And has a good voice for the singing; 

His efforts stop there, for though advice is not 
rare, 
For a chorus is usually ringing. 

Of "lazy'' and "trifless" and "wuthless" and 
such 

Epithets must he daily be hearing; 
But they make no sort of impression on Mort, 

Though not for the want of good rearing. 

His mother never let up on dinning it in, 
His wife kept continually prodding ; 

It seemed like the bees buzzing on in the trees, 
And oftentimes set him to nodding. 

"You mus spec ter fine munny growin' 'pun 
trees. 



26 The Kabbit Eoot 

Kase you ain't nuvver earned yer own salt- 
in—" 
"I nuwer seed no good in sech high-seasoned 
food, 
Tain't me dat fine all dat faultin'.'' 

^^Don't yer know/' plead his wife, "dat Satan 
look out 

Fer ter keep idle hans all er werkin', 
An' you know you is lazy an' shiffless an' slazy, 

What you mean by interminal shirkin' ?" 

"Yes, I knows dat Satan induschus ernuff, 

Dat he wussern er bee er er hornit, 
But yer fine yerseff losin' sum good time er- 
busin'. 
Whiles you breaves in my years like er 
cornit." 

"I bleaves ef you had er whole fiel' ov wheat, 
You wouldn't husy yersefi fer ter reap it — " 

"Busy ! Dat de onliest good quality de debble 
am got, 
An' I moves fer ter let de debble keep it." 



The Kabbit Foot 27 



I 'low she are de slightenest one 

Dat I did iiver see, 
An' when I tells you her lass trick, 

I think you'll ergree wid me. 

Miss hired her when her miss wus sick, 

An' busying wid dem all ; 
Jess erwaitin' at dat dippo. 

When dey heerd de ingin squall. 

*^!N"ow" ses Miss, ^*^you takes dis chile 

An' hole her by de han', 
An' be reddy ter jump in arfter me, 

When de cyars cum ter de stan'." 

An' dat outdashus gal got in, 
Wid er little light-hyared chile 

Ere fitein' like de scratches. 
An' lookin' skeered an' wile. 

An' de ingine started off right straight, 

An' Miss lookt at her face ; 
Ef you b'leaves, 'twas sum strange chile 

Dat she'd jukked off de place. 



28 The Rabbit Foot 

Er chile dey nuvver seed befo', 

An' 'Lisbuth leff behine, 
Well, you reckon dey started telegrums 

Explainin' 'bout deir mine. 

Dey stopt at de fust place on de road, 

An' had her exprust back; 
An' finully got our 'Lizerbuth 
Frum off de ingine track. 

*^An', lawsy me, why, tain't my fault, 
I didn't knowed her name, 

But I grabbed de bess one dat I seed, 
An' I don' bar no blame. 

"I thought," sed dat tfifless nigger, 
'^Dat she wus er awful chile. 

But I put up wid her fitein' ov mo 
Kase white fokes always spiled." 



The Eabbit Foot 29 



3Fii0H an IBubb* 

Miss she' do make er lot ov fuss 
'Bout keepin' ov things clean, 

An' peekin' 'bout in cornders . 
Whar nuthin' kin be seen. 

"Sweep here ! Bresh dis ! Duss thar I 
'Now pick up all deni strings," 

An' who you reckon got de nerve 
Ter look arf ter all dem things ? 

Now I don' pruve ov so much werk, 
Who reckon dirt gwine hurt; 

Miss suttinlj dun fergot de fac, 
Dat we alls made ov dirt. 

Suttinly, we'uns made out dirt. 

An' terns ter dirt ergin ; 
An' yit Miss keep us wrasslin' 'round 

Like good clean dirt wus sin. 



30 The Rabbit Foot 



"Miss Rose, lemme hab yer hens ter raise, 

I got de likeliest place, 
Whar de grass am green, an' er lively drain, 

An' de water jess rnns ter waste; 
My fowls, ef I do say it myseff, 

Do hab de bestes tase. 

I takes all de trubble offen yer bans, 

An' raise dem bens fer baff ; 
De mill ain't fur, an' dey picks up 

Deir livin' off offal an' cbaff ; 
I sbo' is lucky wid my bens — " 

Sbe ends witb a jolly laugb. 

So just to try, sbe gives ber twelve 

Of Cocbin eggs to batch, 
After due time she makes ber way 

Down by P'lina's patch. 
(iN'ow old P'lina's smooth a one 

The world may find to match.) 

The chickens are of frying size, 
P'lina's face all smile, 



The Kabbit "Foot ^1 

"ISTow jess sit down an' ress yerseff, 

An' look eroun' erwliile ; 
Hit's menny er day sense yon bin heer— 

Hits nigh erbont er mile. 

Yon don' say yon walked dis fur 

On dem leetle teensy feet ? 
I 'clar, Miss Rose, yon sho' looks yonng, 

An' dat dress sho' is sweet!" 
"We'll talk about the chickens now — 

They must be ready to eat. 

How many of my dozen hatched?" 

"De hen jess hatched out six — 
An' laws, Miss Rose, your six eggs spiled— 

How white fokes does git mixt, 
Jess six eggs hatched — an' dem six dar 

Is my harf ov de chicks." 



^2 The Eabbit Foot 



"There goes old Aunt Mary now, 

Eun and catch her, please ; 
I want her to come some time next week 

To help boil down that grease. 

I want her for fifty other things- 
Find out if she can come, 

Or I'll have to look for some one else — • 
Now call her — ^you're not dumb/^ 

Aunt Mary halts— "JSTow, you be sure 
To tell her to come next week.'' 

Aunt Mary's a regular character, 
A Barnum Museum freak. 

But she well knows how to do her work* 

An invaluable aid 
In times of great emergency, 

If sure to be well paid. 

Whatever you say, her eyes are skinned 

To her own interest sure. 
And if she is not paid enough — 

Shell take it, even more. 



The Eabbit Foot 38 

They talk so long before the gate 

My patience quite gives out, 
So I saunter slowly down the lane 

To see what they are about. 

For nothing's happened that I know 

In the county or the town, 
To require elaborate gestures 

And wavings up and down. 

I hear in snatches as I walk: 

''Aunt Polly's Susan Ann," 
And somebody's sister '' 'Melia" 

And Aunt Mary's own ''ole man." 

I hear nothing at all about my soap, 

Or any of my affairs, 
And I must shift some of the burden 

Of accumulating cares. 

I break in on the list of friends, 

Like the pibroch of old days. 
The enumerations of Scotch clans 

With their uncommon ways. 

At last a pause : "Well, can you come V* 
''Come? What for? AndWhar? 

And how fer is I got ter walk ? 
An' when will I git thar ?" 



S4 The Babbit Toot 

This is the form of mother-wit, 

Of many of her kind ; 
I well know how she always talks, 

So I needn't ever mind. 

But I look in amazement at my maid, 

Who doesn't offer to speak ; 
^^Why! Hasn't Parthenia told you 
I want you to work next week ?" 

"Parthenia! What is the matter with you?'* 

"I hadn't dun fergit, 
But I hadn't jess finished axin' 

'Bout all her kinfokes yit." 



The Babbit Foot 35 



Ole Mills didn't hab no manner uv use 

Per Joe before be went, 
Still less wben be bad cum back bome, 

Stuffed up witb ars and scent. 

You kno be nuwer bad no sense, 
Kase Jim wus sure pea-green; 

ITo, I ain't talkin' 'bout ole Mills, 
I darsen't — be too mean. 

You dunno wbat you gwine ter ketcb ^ 
Wben you meddles wid ole Mills ; 

Pokes say be's cunjur, watcb yer mouf 
'Bout iiwery word it spills. 

But Joe cum trippin' on bis toes, 
Er bowin' 'roun' wid smiles, 

Usein' de biggest sort ov words, 
De sbortess reacb tbree miles. 

Unc'l Mills batted ov bis eyes, 
One second 'twus forty winks, 

An' drawed bis mouf all in and out, 
We knowed wbat ole Mills tbinks. 



36 The Kabbit Foot 

Kow here's er sample ov dat Joe : 
^^An' yer corpus segradiates well V^ 

"I'm pleasured wid memorial news," 
"Quite an umbragial smell." 

We all wus feared to say one werd, 
When Mills keep battin' his eyes ; 

Twell he says : "Is dis here Joseph's coat 
On Mr. Sollermun Wise ? 

An' will snmbody please ter tell 
What dis here gentlemun say, 

Kase ef he means insults by dem, 
He better track out my way." 

Sumbody tried to 'splain ter him 

Dat what Joe meant ter say 
Was sum kine ov er compliment, 

But sed sum yether way. 

An' Uncle Mills kepp on battin' his eyes, 

An' wavin' ov dat ban' ; 
"Den Mister Wise must use de werds 

Dat fokes kin understan'." 

When ole Mills bat bof bans an' eyes, 
We got reesins ter know de cause ; 

He jess er eechin' for ter reech out 
An' smack somebody's jaws. 



The Eabbit Foot 37 

Joe called back his 'membrances, 

Kase Joe, he knowed it too, 
An* de nex time he cum tf aipsin^ in 

He sed plain *^Howdy-ao/' 



The Rabbit Foot 



Uncle Ajax has a curious way 

Of muttering all the time; 
Carrying a brisk talking on, 

Half reason and half rhyme. 

He works the garden in the Spring ; 

You hear his voice for hours ; 
!N'obody there but the trees and weeds, 

The grass, and the young Spring flowers. 

Sometimes he goes on so fast 

You'd think he had a double, 
While the cadences go up and down, 

As if Ajax was in trouble. 

His thoughts fly ofl to far-ofl times, 

The future, or the past. 
The present hardships of his lot. 

The length of time they last. 

^^Run,'' said I once to Mammy Kate, 
As they swung from bass to treble; 

"Laws, chile, I darsent ventur, kase 
Ajax talkin' ter de debble." 



The Rabbit Foot 



''Why, Uncle Yorke ! 

And how do you do ?" 
^'Tolerbul poorly, Miss Vi, 

Arf ter what I goes thru ; 
I dnn got rheiimatiz, 

Ez you kin see — 
Or ruther de rheumatiz 

Dun got me. 
An' I ain't gettin' 'long 

So well es I mought; 
I got pleny ter eat, 

But my wood gin out; 
An' I cum ter ax yer 

Fer er tern 
Of sum oak-knots 

Dat's fitten ter burn; 
An' I pays you back 

Ef I libs tweli Spring, 
An' Spring mos' here, 

Ef de birds don' sing." 

"If you'll cut up 

That tree by the fall, 
And move it away. 

You can have it all.'* i 



40 The Eabbit Foot 

"Laws, sholy ! Miss Yi I 

You don't expec 
Me ter tech are tree 

Whar litenin' strecks? 
You won't git are nigger 

In dese lands, 
Ter meddle wid litenin' 

Wid his hands. 
Dat tree will stan' 

While de werl muve 'roun', 
Ef you waits fer me 

Ter cut it down. 
I'd friz ter deff 

'Fore I toch are limb, 
When litenin' strecks 

It b'longs ter Him. 

You he totin' bad luck 

Ercrost yer floor 
When you totes dat wood 

Insiden yer do'. ^/ 

An' you don' know — ? ( 

Whar you bin raise? ^^ 
Dat tor burn dat wood 

Will shorten yer days ? 
You moughtn't b'leave 

What de witches sed, 
But dat be too late 

When Yorke be ded. 



The Rabbit Foot 41 

.Well, I sho' am bleeged — ■ 

Good-by, Miss Vi, 
I fotcli yer dat litewood 

Tore I die. 
But ef you wants 

Ter lose yer breff, 
You try dat ded wood 

By yerseff.^' 



i2 The Rabbit Foot 



IsTo darkey ever acknowledged good health, 
He was always ^Toorly, thank God V 

You'd think his back was bent or broke 
By submission to the rod. 

^^Bress God ! He'd a mizry in his hade/' 

Or rheumatiz in his knees ; 
But everything — ailments, good or bad, 

Was plastered by that ^^Please." 

If you'd ask what really was the cause 

Of making such a fuss, 
^^Dar ain't nuthin' 'tickler de matter terday- 

But I'm feared of gittin' wnss." 



The Rabbit Eoot 43 



You kin talk erboiit yer silber cups, 

An' tankards wid de ale, 
An' er tknrsty man upon er pmch 

Kin tilt de water-pail ; 
Out in de fiels yer own two lians 

An unsartin sup kin 'ford; 
But you dunno kow water ought ter tase 

Lessen you drinks frum de gourd. 

De white f okes drinks out menny things, 

Jess 'cordin' how dey raise, 
Coke-nut dippers, tumblers, mugs. 

An' menny yether ways ; 
But fur da rale pleasure. 

An' de water jess bin poured, 
Eer satersfaction all eroun', 

Gimme er drink frum de gourd. 

Be gourd wus made fer niggers, 
Jess growin' 'long de groun', 

Takin' life easy in de mine 
An' lazin' all eroun'. 



44 The Kabbit Foot 

Go doAvn ter dat spring in de hollow, 
Whar de summer coolness stored, 

An' fotch dat bucket drippin' back 
An' gimme er drink frum de gourd. 



The Kabbit Foot 46 



The guns had opened a steady fire, 
The grass with blood was wet ; 

When a negro baby toddled up 
Along the parapet. 

Composed and calm as the sky above 

He walked serenely through 
The shot and shell of the belching guns 

With the fire and smoke in view. 

Black as the ace of spades was he, 

With one white garment on ; 
That scantily covered the little limbs. 

And that was tattered and worn. 

A flag of truce — for both sides stopped — 

It created quite a stir — 
"I jess cumed up hyar fer ter see 

What all dis noise is fer. 

I warnts ter see de ginrul Boss 
What owns all dese here guns;" 

A hand reached up and dragged him down 
While a shout of laughter runs 



46 The Eabbit Foot 

All through the startled camping-grounds. 

"JSTow, Sambo, what's your will?" 
"I wisht, Mr. Ginrul, dat you'd make 

All dese here guns keep still. 

Mammy put me in my cradle, 

An' rockt me a whole heep ; 
But I dun tole her twarnt no use, 

Kase I carn't go ter sleep 

Wid all dis racket 'roun' me; 

An' ef you'll be so good — 
I wisht you'd stop it, Mister — " 

And ^ ^Mister" wished he could. 



The Kabbit Foot 47 



Uncle Jake lived up in de loft, 

In de cabin ov his niece, 
Kase tie sed dat wuz de onliest place 

He cud find enny peace. 

Un uwery time when he cum down 

Dat larther, day by day, 
He sot it up erginst de wall 

Ter keep it out de way. 

De werd were kerried 'roun' erbout 
Dat he were mouglity rich ; 

All his ruUations kep deirselves 
Chuned up ter concert pitch. 

An', by an' by, he cum ter die, 
Dey all wuz getherin' 'roun'. 

An' IJncle Jake he stretched his eyes 
Like he wake frum er swound. 

"I leabes ter Sue an' chillen 
My ole black stockin'-f ut ; 

Hit's in de bottom ov de chist — 
Leasways, dar's whar 'twas put." 



48 The E^^bbit Foot 

An' den his eyes kep wundering — 
An' his voice grow moughtj soff- 

'^Yes, angels, set dat larther up — 
I'm gwine inter yer loft." 



The Kabbit Foot 49 



Yes, I knowed all 'bout Injuns; 

I knowed um fust an' last. 
An' you young fokes may thank your stars 

Dat Injun-time dun past. 

I seed um cum, an' I seed um go, 
Wid deir tomashawks an' paint, 

An' de likeliest Injun dat I seed 
Was fur frum bein' er saint. 

'Twarnt no fun, now I tells yer, 

Ter beer dem Injuns yell. 
An' fly erbout wid tomashawks 

Ter roast yer shins er spell. 
I tells yer now 'twus somethin' fierce 

Ter see dem Injuns dance, 
An' sculp de top ov yer only bed , 

Whenuvver dey got er chance. 

De onliest good Injun is er dead one, sho', 

I heerd sumbody sed; 
Ef Miss Pocahontus wus er good Injun, 

Well, ain't Miss Poky ded ? 



50 The Kabbit Foot 

An' she bin ded er good long time, 
Mos' fokes is dun forgit, 

But Injuns is — Injuns— an' I kno 
Her kin-fokes livin' yit. 



The Rabbit Foot 51 



Mxm iarltttg. 

Graduated — and with a head choke full, 

Of all new-fangled germs, 
Her language spiced with college slang 

And scientific terms. 

Elected to teach, because she knows 

So much beyond a doubt ; 
Feels vastly superior to the race 

That dwell around about 

She reads a tome of ponderous size, 

And toasts her feet at the fire, 
Sub-conscious of the wisdom 

That others should admire. 

When old Belinda's turbaned head 

Is popped inside the door — 
"Well, Miss Darling, I sho' is glad 

You here fer sartin' sho'.'' 

Passes the compliments of the day, 

With futurity of hope ; 
Then asks if she knows "when the moon will 
wax 

Ter make er bilin' ov soap." 



52 The Babbit Foot 

Miss Darling stares, as well slie might, 

With nothing at all to say, 
"For what does she know about waxing, 

And bilings are not her way. 

She thinks Belinda out of her mind, 

Mixing up soap and moon, 
And devoutly wishes one might come 

To relieve the stress, and soon. 

Belinda laughs at her vacant stare, 
^'Laws 1 chile, I jess cum ter ax 

When the moon kin change — ter bile the soap 
Frum out de alminax ? 

Or kin you tell me when de new moon 

Will be upon de crease? 
Kase I should be loth ter spile 

All dat dar mutton grease. 

I dun save er lot of good white fat, 

An' hate ter see it wase ; 
Ef de moon beent right — '' and laughs again 

At Miss Darling's puzzled face. 

"Don't you know fokes don' bile no soap 
When de moon am on de wane ; 

Hit'll all dry up, an' won't make suds, 
An' de trubble all be vain ?" 



The Eabbit Foot 53 

Miss Darling vaguely remembers, 

^'Hitch your wagon to a star.^' 
But it doesn't seem to fit right in, 

Or the wagon seems to jar. 

"No," she answers coldly, 

"I know nothing of that kind — " 

And feels the weighty significance 
Of an educated mind. 

Belinda turns in silent scorn. 

With an insulted air, 
And settles her opinion 

Of Miss Darling then and there. 

"Laws ! calling herself uv er teacher," 

She grunts when out of range ; 
"An' carn't even tell er poor nigger 

When the moon gwine change." 



54: The Kabbit Foot 



§^piuUxt^ tl|^ parting. 

''Ole Marster called we darkeys up 

rriim de plantation grouns, 
De yard wiis black with bobbin' heads 

Fur suvral yards eroun'. 

^^IN'ow/' ses ole Marser, "youse all free," 
An' er tear wus in his eye; 

^'You dun dun yer duty all by me, 
An' I wants ter say good-by. 

I wish you well, my lifetime friends, 
We've wintered many years," 

De ress dat he wus gwine ter say 
Was swallered up wid tears. 

Ole Marster stood in silence, den 

And waved ter all his han' ; 
Den Dinks stept up an' made er bow, 

"Does we alls understand 

Dat we is free ter go — er stay ? 

Jess as we please an' choose; 
An' muss we go, or kin we stay ? 

Dis here's confugin news. 



The Rabbit Foot 55 

Kase I ain't got nowhars ter go. 

My wife an' cliillen's ded, 
An' out in dat same buryin'-ground 

I hopes ter lay dis bed. 

An' ef it's all de same ter you, 

I stays right on right here, 
An' goes an' plows dat same low grouns 

I dun plowed forty year." 

Den Chloe said : "How 'bout dat chile ? 

Is she gwine 'long wid me ? 
Is you gwine make her papers out 

An' say we bofe is free ? 

What I gwine say ter Mistis, 

Up 'mongst dem heavenly palms, 

When she ax me 'bout dat dar chile 
She leff in dese two arms ? 

You know she call ter me dat night. 

Upon dat dyin' bed, 
An' I promist on my bended knees, 

An' dese de werds I said : 

I calls de Lord ter witness, 

Wid dat chile upon my bress, 
Ter see dat I tuk keer ov her. 

Den Mistis went ter ress. 

LOfC. 



56 The Eabbit Foot 

I gwine ter luk Miss in de face, 
An' straight betwixt de eye, 

I dun tuk keer of dat po' chile 
Twell I were called on high. 

An' dough she almoss big ernufF 

Ter take keer of herseff, 
Miss 'specs me ter look arfter her 

Untwell mj djin' breff. 

Ef Missy carn't go 'long wid me, 
I stays here twell I dies;" 

An' uvvery darkey standin' dar 
Had tears in bof his eyes. 

But sum dem young an' trifless ones 
'Pon what no reed depens, 

Dey squanderd off all which-er-ways. 
But we uns parted frens. 

"An' whar wus I ? An' whar'd I go ? 

Ax what ole Marster thinks; 
I thought I had dun 'splained myseff 

Dat my name wus ole Dinks." 



The Babbit Toot ^*^ 



For at least six months after the war, 

The darkeys staid at home, 
Then began a great migration, 

They said ''De werd dun cnm. 

^^Whatword? From whom? From where?" 

But that was all they said, 
And further explanation 

Was never ever made. 

For whatever thoughts roll inside 

Beneath those crinkled hairs. 
You'll never know — that secret gift, 

Silence— is surely theirs. 

But in spite of all persuasion 
Some staid where they were born, 

Even suffered persecution — 
Held by their race in scorn. 

They worked on till their dying day. 

And knew no other place, 
Some faithful hearts were staunch and true, 

Even of a treacherous race. 



58 The Rabbit Foot 

Ever and anon some notice reads, 
^Tasised — from the dark to light," 

^'Our Mamm/' or ^^Old Uncle Jake— '* 
^^Black, but the soul was white." 



The Eabbit Foot 59 



Think of the little ones now-a-dajs 

Born to untoward fate, 
Who never will hear a slumber-song 

With Mammies ont of date. 

'No comforting for childish woes, 

No kiss to ease a pain, 
If they look to hireling nurses, 

They look, alas ! in vain. 

Her only thought of precious charge 

Iler wages by the week; 
But otherwise a nuisance, 

If her inmost soul could speak. 

We ought to give the children 

Of love a ten-fold store, 
When the Mammies of the South are gone — 

And gone forever more. 



60 The Eabbit Foot 



Dey talks erbout de problumsea 

Of dese here curis times, 
An' how de puzzle werries um, 

Wid de multiflyin' crimes. 

An' wunderSj wunders how dey cums, 
An' what dej's gwine ter do, 

An' how cum dis, an' how goes dat, 
An' what's er cumin' true. 

An' er poor ole nigger jess like me, 
Black es de midnight's face, 

Kin gin dem easy answers fer 
All dis here cumin' race. 

Dey jess needs good ole 'ligion, 

De good ole-f ashuned kine, 
An' take de hoe an' go ter werk, 

Dat'll easy up de mine. 

Dey ain't no puzzle ter be 'splain, 

Dat answer dun cum true. 
Laws ! Dese here problums ole es time, 

Hit's jess de people's new. 



The Eabbit Foot 61 

Dat^s all — dat's faif, an' common-sense, 

Don' werry 'bout no more ; 
Ole-time 'ligion bar you up, 

An' Ian' jou on dat shore. 

Dat jether shore, dat shining shore, 

Whar dar nuwer is no night, 
Whar poor fokes walks upon de gold, 

An' black fokes same as white. 



62 



The Kabbit Foot 



These little picaninnies 

That scramble on the fence, 

Are lively living pictures 

That appeal to Southern sense. 

With all their grins of merriment 
'No sorrow serves to stem; 

But this race is disappearing fast, 
So make the most of them. 



SS$Sj^M 



Old times dar am not f or-got-ten ! 



f 



Sam S. & Lee Shiibert 

direct the following theatres and theatrical 
attractions in America : 



Hippodrome, Lyric, Casino, 
Dalys, Lew Fields, Herald 
Square and Princess Thea- 
tres, New York. 

Garrick Theatre, Chicago. 

Lyric Theatre, Philadelphia. 

Shubert Theatre, Brooklyn. 

Belasco Theatre, Washing- 
ton. 

Belasco Theatre, Pittsburg. 

Shubert Theatre, Newark. 

Shubert Theatre, Utica. 

Grand Opera House, Syra- 
cuse. 

Baker Theatre, Rochester. 

Opera House, Providence. 

Worcester Theatre, Worces- 



Theatre, New 



ter. 

Hyperion 
Haven. 

Lyceum Theatre, Buffalo. 
Colonial Theatre, Cleveland. 
Raud'3 Opera House, Troy. 
Garrick Theatre, St. Louis. 
Sam S. Shubert Theatre, 

Norfolk, Va. 
Shubert Theatre, Columbus. 
I Lyric, Cincinnati. 



Mary Anderson Theatre, 
Louisville. 

New Theatre, Richmond, 
Va. 

New Theatre, Lexington, Ky. 

New Theatre, Mobile. 

New Theatre, Atlanta. 

Shubert Theatre, Milwau- 
kee. 

Lyric Theatre, New Orleans. 

New Marlowe Theatre, 
Chattanooga. 

New Theatre, Detroit. 

Grand Opera House, Dav- 
enport, Iowa. 

New Theatre, Toronto. 

New Sothern Theatre, Den- 
ver. 

Sam S. Shubert Theatre, 
Kansas City. 

Majestic Theatre, Los An- 
geles. 

Belasco Theatre, Portland. 

Shubert Theatre, Seattle. 

Majestic Theatre, San Fran- 
cisco. 

EH. Sothern & Julia Mar- 
lowe in repertoire. 



Margaret Anglin and Henry 
Miller. 

Virginia Harned, 

Mary Mannering in " Glori- 
ous Betsy." 

Mme. Alia Nazimova. 

Thos. W. Ross in "The 
Other Girl." 

Cecelia lyoftus. 

Clara Bloodgood. 

Blanche Ring. 

Alexander Carr. 

Digby Bell. 

"The Girl Behind the 
Counter." 

"The Light Eternal.' 

"The Snow Man." 

Blanche Bates in " The Girl 
from the Golden West." 

David Warfield in "The 
Music Master." 

" The Rose of the Rancho," 
with Rose Starr. 

Harrison Gray Fiske's 
Attractions. 



Mrs, Fiske in 
York Idea." 



The New 



* Shore Acres." 

Louis Mann in "The White 
Hen." 

"The Road to Yesterday." 

Henry Woodruff in "Brown 
of Harvard." 

"The Secret Orchard," by 
Channing Pollock. 

De Wolf Hopper in " Hap- 
py land." 

Eddie Foy in " The Orchid." 

Marguerite Clark, in a new 
opera. 

"The Social Whirl," with 
Chas. J. Ross. 

James T. Powers in " The 
Blue Moon." 



Bertha Kalich, 
"Leah Kleschna." 

"The Man on the Box." 

Cyril Scott in " The Prince 
Chap." 

" Mrs. Temple's Telegram." 

"The Three of Us." 



You cannot go wrong in selecting one of 
these play-houses for an evening's entertain- 
ment in whatever city you may happen to be. 



ADIRONDACK) 
MURRAY 

A Dios'rapHical Appreciation 

By Harry V. Eadford 

Editor cf Woods and Waters 



W. H. H. MURRAY (b. 1840, d. 1904)— equally celebrated 
as preacher, author, lecturer, sportsman and traveler— has be- 
come an immortal figure in American history and letters, taking 
rank, as a writer, with Cooper and Thoreau. Mr. Radford— 
himself an author and sportsman of national repute, and ac- 
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sport and literature— has told the wonderful story of "Adiron- 
dack " Murray from the vantage-point of personal acquaintance, 
and with a characteristic grace and charm of style that insures 
for his book permanent popularity. 

HENRY VAN DYKE 

in a personal letter written to the author from "Ayalon," 
Princeton, N. J., says of Mr. Radford's book : 

'^ Your writing- takes me back in imagination to that beautiful country of 
mountains, and rivers, and lakes, where so many of the happiest months of 
my early life were spent, and where I learned to cast the tly and shoot a 
rille. It is pleasant to feel the sincere and cordial enthusiasm with which 
you write of the fine traits of Mr. A'lurray's character, ai'.dthe big out-of- 
door side of his life in which the best of his nature found expression. 
I congratulate you on the success with which you have performed your 
task of gratitude and friendship, and hope that your book will find its 
way into the hands of thousands of those who love the woods and the 
waters." 

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